


Insurrection

by Aini_NuFire



Series: Musketeer Dragon Riders [24]
Category: The Musketeers (2014)
Genre: Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe - Dragons, Angst, Dragon Riders, Drama, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-08
Updated: 2020-07-18
Packaged: 2021-03-05 03:14:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 14,895
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25147534
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aini_NuFire/pseuds/Aini_NuFire
Summary: The arrest of a thief puts the Musketeers on the trail of an assassination plot. But with an uncooperative informant and betrayal within the palace, will they discover the truth in time?
Series: Musketeer Dragon Riders [24]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1564573
Comments: 31
Kudos: 39





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to everyone who's followed this series! We're gearing up for the big "season 2" finale now.

The clomp of weighted footsteps resounded in the dark alley as Athos and his troop of musketeers gathered across the street from their target. Pedestrians conducting their nightly business scuttled away at the show of force, not wanting to get caught up in whatever was about to go down.

"He's in there?" Athos asked.

"No one's come out," Aramis replied from his perch at the corner, musket in hand.

Athos turned to Porthos, Christophe, and Pierre. "Go around back, make sure he can't slip past us."

Porthos nodded gruffly and they headed off.

Athos stepped into the street, silently leading the direct approach on the house. It probably looked like overkill, eight men to arrest one fugitive. But this Vadim had stolen enough gunpowder to wage a small war and so far had proved elusive and dangerous. When the Musketeers had received a tip that he was visiting his mistress, they'd wasted no time in assembling and setting off to apprehend him.

They pulled up at the front door and Athos paused. He turned to Aramis. "Watch the window."

Aramis rolled his eyes at the implied sarcasm but stayed outside while the rest of them moved in.

They swept through the house and up the stairs. There was only one room with muffled sounds emanating from within. Athos drew his pistol, nodded to d'Artagnan, and then he kicked in the door.

The couple in the bed startled badly, the woman yelping as she frantically grasped at the sheets to cover herself. The man tried to scramble away but got tangled in those bedsheets.

"Don't move," d'Artagnan ordered.

The man froze at the three pistols aimed at him, then slowly raised his hands.

"Vadim, you are under arrest for the theft of multiple barrels of gunpowder," Athos said. "Get up."

Vadim didn't say anything as he slowly stood up from the bed, a scant corner of bedsheet barely covering himself. D'Artagnan bent down without taking his eye off their prisoner to grab a pair of discarded trousers from the floor and tossed them at Vadim. The man took his time slipping into them, expression almost taunting.

D'Artagnan threw a shirt at him next, and then they all watched him like a hawk as he slowly bent down to slip into his boots. Once he was finally dressed, Alain stepped in and bound his hands.

"Let's go," Athos said. He paused on their way out and inclined his head toward the woman still huddled on the bed. "Apologies for the interruption."

They met up with the rest of the group outside and began the trek to the Chatelet to hand over their prisoner.

"Where is the gunpowder you stole?" Athos asked blandly as they walked.

Vadim sneered. "Wouldn't you like to know?"

Porthos gave him a rough shove from behind. "Tell us," he growled.

"Why?" Vadim scoffed. "It's not like I can do anything with it now."

Porthos glowered at him. That claim may not have been true. They had yet to identify anyone working with Vadim, but that much gunpowder…they needed to know for sure.

The gates of the Chatelet came into view ahead. Once Vadim was remanded to their custody, his interrogation would fall to someone else.

Vadim suddenly dug his feet in. "Wait. What if I knew about an assassination plot against the King?"

D'Artagnan seized the man by the front of his shirt. "Is that what the gunpowder is for? You're planning an attack against the King?"

Vadim reached up his bound hands and pushed him away. "Not _me_. But I hear things sometimes. Surely that information would be worth something, say, my freedom?"

Athos exchanged a silent look with the others. Most likely Vadim was just spouting nonsense trying to distract them.

But if he wasn't…

Athos grabbed Vadim's arm and dragged him the rest of the way to the prison gate. "Put this man in a cell by himself and leave him be until we return," he ordered.

Vadim just grinned back at him slyly as he was led away.

"You believe him?" Christophe asked.

"I don't know," Athos replied. "But we need to report to Treville."

The musketeers headed back to the garrison. There, Athos dismissed the men, though d'Artagnan, Aramis, and Porthos followed him up to the captain's office. A light was shining from within, so Treville was still up. Athos rapped on the door.

"Enter!"

They let themselves in. Treville was sitting on the edge of his bed, his shirt untucked and a cup of wine in his hand.

"What do you have to report?" he asked sharply.

"We've apprehended Vadim," Athos answered. "He's in the Chatelet. But he claims he has information on an assassination plot against the King."

Treville's brows knitted together and he surged to his feet. "Is that what he planned to do with the gunpowder?"

"He claims the plot is not his, that he overheard it. But he'll only share what he knows in exchange for his freedom."

Treville made a noise of disgust and turned toward his desk. "What about the gunpowder?"

"He refused to give that up as well."

"He's lyin' to save his own skin," Porthos put in.

"We can't know that," Aramis calmly countered.

Treville shook his head and braced his palms on the top of his desk. Athos did not envy his position. Frankly, he thought they couldn't trust Vadim, and they certainly couldn't let such a dangerous man go free. On the other hand, if the King truly was in danger, then it was their duty to do everything possible in order to ensure his safety.

Treville straightened and grabbed his coat from where it was hanging. "I'll be at the Chatelet."

None of them said anything but wordlessly followed their captain out of his office and then out of the garrison. Treville didn't comment on them accompanying him.

"Back so soon?" one of the prison guards grumbled at their arrival.

"We need to see the prisoner Vadim," Treville said with full authority.

The guard huffed and led them inside. The prison was dark and dank during the day; at night it was even worse. The pitch black shadows undulated against feeble torch light, like the throb of some sentient heartbeat awakening in the bowels of darkness, fed and satiated on the moans of misery and despair.

It was a decidedly unpleasant place.

The guard led them down a passage to a cell that at least had a window to allow some scant moonlight into the space. "Vadim, visitors," he announced.

Vadim was seated on the dirty floor against the back wall, shackles around his wrists. His face cracked into a smile at seeing them. "And who is this? Someone with the authority to treat with me?"

"I'm Captain Treville of the Musketeers. You should know we take threats against the King very seriously."

"I should hope so," Vadim replied. "So seriously, in fact, that the information would be worth my freedom." He lifted his shackled hands toward them in invitation.

"What information would that be, exactly?" Treville asked. "Rumors? A hushed conversation you overheard in a tavern but can't put names to?"

Vadim's grin spread wider. "Names, no, but how about the place and time?"

The musketeers exchanged looks at that.

"How do we know you're not part of it?" d'Artagnan put in. "That the gunpowder you stole isn't for this assassination?"

"Well, that would be a pretty foolish move, then, telling you all about it."

"Unless you are trying to trick us," Athos countered. "Send us looking in the wrong direction so we let you go and you continue with your plan."

Vadim snickered. "That would be clever. And in that case I'd say let the best man win in such a game of wits. But I'm not part of the assassination plot. In fact, I only stole the gunpowder so as to thwart them."

Porthos let out a loud snort of disbelief. "Right. Then why don' you tell us where it is?"

Vadim shrugged and settled back against the wall. "I'm not saying anything more without a deal for clemency."

The silence was taut in the ensuing standoff. But Vadim held all the cards, and they all knew it.

"I can't make any promises," Treville said carefully. "But I can speak to the King on your behalf if you show us you're willing to cooperate."

Vadim sneered. "Not good enough. Either I go free, or France will be crying for her King in a matter of days. The decision is in your hands."

The rest of them flicked uncertain looks at their captain, waiting to follow his lead. After another few tense moments, Treville turned and walked away. The musketeers followed.

"The clock is ticking!" Vadim called after them, his voice bouncing off the stone walls with a resounding taunt.

"What are we going to do?" d'Artagnan asked once they were out of earshot of the cell.

Treville inhaled and exhaled deeply. "We'll speak to the King in the morning."

Athos didn't think Louis would take kindly to a criminal demanding to be released without consequence. But with an imminent threat to his life looming, there was no telling how he'd react.

.o.0.o.

Treville wasted no time sending word first thing in the morning that he needed to speak with the King. Athos, as his lieutenant, accompanied him. Of course, the Cardinal was present as well, as he always was when it came to official matters on…well, everything.

Louis looked sleepy when he and Anne finally arrived, but he quickly became more alert as Treville relayed what they'd discovered.

"You think there is truth to this Vadim's story?" Anne asked in concern.

"I don't know. But we must take any hint of threat against Your Majesties seriously," Treville replied.

Richelieu had been oddly quiet, like his thoughts were elsewhere, but he swiftly snapped back to attention. "We must get to the bottom of this," he declared sharply.

"Vadim says he will give us the information on the assassination plot in exchange for his release," Treville said.

"This is the same man who stole a bunch of barrels of gunpowder, is he not?" Louis put in incredulously.

Treville nodded. "Setting him free would be dangerous."

"Of course he can't be allowed to get away with his crime," Richelieu interjected. "Turn him over to the Red Guard and they will get the information we need."

"How?" Anne asked suspiciously.

The Cardinal raised his head. "By any means necessary."

"You mean torture," she said bluntly.

"We need answers quickly," he replied with unfazed smugness. "And perhaps this conversation is not appropriate for Your Majesty's delicate disposition."

Anne drew her shoulders back. "Vadim has already offered to share the information in exchange for leniency. If he gives up the location of the gunpowder he stole as well, we should consider it." She turned to the King. "His cooperation would go much more quickly than trying to coerce him."

Louis pursed his mouth in consideration. "Very well." He nodded to Treville. "Take care of it."

Treville bowed in acknowledgement. He didn't necessarily agree with giving in to Vadim's demands, but nor did he find the prospect of torture palatable either.

"Your Majesty," the Cardinal spoke up before they turned to leave. "What about your visit to the Chatelet today to grant pardons?"

Treville's jaw tightened. He'd almost forgotten about the Queen's traditional excursion to the prison on Good Friday.

"What about it?" Anne replied.

"Do you still intend to go? Considering the threat we've just learned about…"

She turned to Treville. "Has Vadim given any indication on when this attack is to take place?"

He shook his head. "Only soon."

"But likely not today, if he hopes to earn his freedom with the information," she concluded. "And the King will not be with me. I will go as planned."

"If you'll delay an extra hour, I'll double the guard to accompany you," Treville said.

She nodded in agreement.

Treville and Athos turned to leave. It was going to be a busy day at the prison.

.o.0.o.

Richelieu stormed through the corridors of the palace, making his way down to the secret tunnels forgotten in this modern age. He knew them well, though, and swept down the passages until he came to a larger cavern filled with red guards.

"Someone get me Gallagher!" he snapped.

Every set of eyes in the place turned his direction, but only one man quickly leaped to his feet and hurried out through another passage.

Richelieu paced angrily as he waited, the normal din of his Red Guard garrison dying down in the wake of his palpable fury.

Finally his soldier returned with Gallagher in tow.

Richelieu stormed toward the man. "I thought you told me the arrangements were being made without any problems," he hissed.

"They are," the Irishman replied calmly.

"Then why is there a prisoner in the Chatelet who claims to know about an assassination plot?"

Gallagher frowned. "I wouldn't know."

"No? His name is Vadim. Is he one of your men?"

"Of course not. My men are loyal."

Richelieu continued to seethe. "Then that brings me back to my original question of everything being in order. This man claims he stole the gunpowder you intended to use."

Gallagher shook his head in confusion. "It's a lie. We have the gunpowder we need."

Richelieu inhaled sharply and focused on gathering his thoughts. "Alright, so this Vadim probably doesn't know as much as he's letting on. He did say the plot was against the King, not the Queen. He's just trying to weasel his way to freedom. Nevertheless, we can't risk him setting the Musketeers on our trail. He needs to be silenced." Richelieu straightened. "He's being held in the Chatelet. The Queen is due to visit later this morning to grant Good Friday pardons. It would be the perfect opportunity to eliminate two birds with one stone. Can you mobilize your men that quickly?"

Gallagher nodded. "If we must."

Richelieu stepped closer, expression like steel. "You must."

He had come too far to let some wretched little common criminal ruin everything now.


	2. Chapter 2

"Good morning, Your Majesty," the Chatelet warden greeted as the Queen and her Musketeer guard arrived.

Aramis walked close to Anne's right, Athos on her left, and several more musketeers taking up the rearguard. Perched on the prison walls were Rhaego and Savron as lookouts, like giant gargoyles roving their beady eyes over everyone and everything. A handful of prisoners were ushered out of the depths of the prison and directed to line up in the courtyard. They were wan and pale and dutifully subdued, though an occasional snuff of a dragon made some of them flinch.

"A few fortunate souls will be granted their freedom today," the warden continued.

"I wish I could pardon all your prisoners," Anne replied.

"Your Majesty should not waste sympathy on those undeserving of it," Athos remarked quietly.

"All men need hope, Athos. Without it, why should they lead a decent life?" she countered.

While Aramis agreed with the sentiment on principle, he had also seen the more depraved side of humanity and knew there were plenty of men who scoffed at the notion of hope in favor of simply taking what they wanted, often at the expense of someone else.

They drew to a stop in front of the assembled prisoners.

"They look half-dead," the Queen gasped. "Poor things."

She took her coin pouch and approached the first man in line. The musketeers hung back. They didn't expect trouble from those about to see freedom.

"In his great mercy and in the name of God, the King has granted you clemency," Anne said, pressing a coin into a man's hand. "I hope this small gift will help you in your new lives."

The prisoner bowed deeply and avoided eye contact.

Aramis exchanged a look with Athos; he wondered how the other offer of clemency in the prison this morning was going.

.o.0.o.

Treville clenched his jaw in growing anger as Vadim leaned casually against the wall of his cell, arms folded and smirking.

"We're giving you what you want," d'Artagnan exclaimed in disbelief and frustration. "Just tell us where the gunpowder is."

"Mm, no, that's not part of the deal."

"It is if you want to walk out of here," Treville rejoined sharply.

Vadim tsked. "I can't believe the gunpowder is more important to you than the Crown."

Porthos moved forward, his broad stature menacing. "What do you need all that gunpowder for anyway, hm?"

Vadim shrugged one shoulder.

"Be reasonable, Vadim," Treville put in. "The King is willing to be lenient if you tell us everything. Otherwise you'll be handed over to the Red Guard for questioning."

"And they're not as nice as us," Porthos said meaningfully.

Vadim's eyes hardened and he looked like he was considering his options. Treville remained silent. If he didn't hand over the gunpowder, there would be no deal. But if they were forced to hand him over to the Red Guard, how long would it be before his secrets were prized from his stubborn tongue? In time to save the King?

A guard appearing outside the cell interrupted them. "You're needed outside," he said gruffly as he unlocked the door.

Treville stiffened. "The Queen?"

"Some prisoners are getting a little rowdy at the prospect of freedom," the guard explained. "Nothing serious, but the lead musketeer requested some backup."

Treville exhaled heavily. "Alright." He gestured to Porthos and d'Artagnan. "You two go. I'll finish up here."

His men hurried out to join Athos and the others and Treville turned to face Vadim.

"This is your last chance."

Vadim's gaze wasn't on him, though, but on something past his shoulder.

Treville half turned and frowned at the guard who was still standing there with the door open. "What is it?" he asked irritably.

The man didn't respond. Instead he abruptly drew a pistol and aimed it at them. Before Treville could react, Vadim had launched himself away from the wall and tackled the guard, both of them grappling for the gun. Treville whipped out his own, yet before he could attempt to take aim, the pistol in the guard's hand went off. The crack of thunder and flash of light was inconsequential compared to the explosion of fire that punched its way into Treville's chest. He fell, landing hard on the stone floor as his lungs seized.

With the pistol spent, Vadim gave up trying to wrench it away and instead snatched a dagger from the guard's belt. He slashed it across the man's throat, spraying blood across the wall. The guard fell with a gurgle. Vadim took the pistol and tucked it into the back of his trousers, then grabbed the keys to unlock the irons on his wrists. He cast one last look at Treville before slipping out of the cell and disappearing down the corridor.

Treville struggled to breathe, to move, but he couldn't. He could only writhe on the floor with his chest on fire and a pool of hot blood spreading out beneath him.

.o.0.o.

Aramis watched as the Queen finished handing out her coins to the pardoned prisoners. He'd be glad when this trip was concluded and they could get her back to the safety of the palace. As long as there was a threat out there, he wanted to err on the side of caution. He was sure his fellow musketeers felt the same.

The creak of an iron gate opening momentarily drew his attention as Porthos and d'Artagnan exited the prison.

"What's the fuss?" Porthos asked, looking around with furrowed brow.

"Nothing," Aramis replied. "We're almost done."

"Then why'd you ask us to come out here?" d'Artagnan said dubiously.

Aramis quirked an odd look at him. "We didn't."

"But the guard said…" D'Artagnan exchanged a confused glance with Porthos.

"What guard?" Athos asked, stepping forward.

"The guard who said the prisoners were getting rowdy…"

They all shared looks of growing concern at that, yet before they could react, a mass of prisoners suddenly burst through the gates into the courtyard, yelling and charging the guards.

"Protect the Queen!" Athos bellowed, and the screech of steel against scabbard rang out as multiple swords were drawn.

The musketeers formed a line between the escaping prisoners and the Queen behind them, standing like a stone barricade as the wave of desperate men broke upon them. Many had stolen weapons from the guards they'd already subdued.

Dragon roars rent the air, but there wasn't enough room down in the courtyard for Rhaego and Savron to be of much help without endangering their own men. Still, Rhaego scrabbled over the wall to the main gate and leaned down to swipe his talons at a prisoner trying to escape. The man went sprawling on the ground and clutching his arm with a pained cry.

Aramis ducked a club that came swinging at his head and retaliated with a slash of his sword. His opponent twisted out of the way and lunged again. This time Aramis threw a hand up to catch the weapon and they grappled for control. His shoulder twinged, remnants of his recently healed injury flaring up under the strain. The prisoner roared and plowed forward, driving Aramis back into the wall with enough force to send more pain lancing down his back and briefly stealing his breath.

A pistol shot cracked the air and the man suddenly went limp. Aramis panted heavily and met Porthos's eye with a short nod before he jumped back into the fray.

"Get the Queen out!" Athos yelled.

Aramis slashed at another prisoner and then whirled to find Anne. She was only a few feet behind him, hands fisted in her skirts as she skittered back several steps away from the encroaching threat. But there was a wall directly behind her and nowhere to go.

Aramis sprinted toward her, taking her arm and urgently guiding her toward the other wall where some barrels and crates were stacked. "Savron!"

The blue silverback whipped his head their direction and then leaped over the wall to reach them. Aramis climbed onto one of the crates and pulled Anne up with him as other musketeers moved closer to cover them. Savron perched precariously on the wall and snaked his head around to his saddle to tug the anchor line loose. The rope fell away to dangle above Aramis. He snagged it and used the leverage to climb up another box, still bringing the Queen up behind him.

"One of these days we'll get you to actually ride in the saddle," he quipped as he began to fashion a loop for her since she wasn't wearing a belt it could be clipped to.

Anne grimaced and her wild eyes kept flicking down to the battle below.

Aramis had only been trying to distract her; he had every intention of getting her high enough to climb onto Savron's back so the dragon could carry her back to the palace. He climbed up another box, shooting one arm out to keep his balance as the crates began to creak and shift.

"Come on," he urged, holding out his hand.

She took it and he helped her up onto the crate next to him, then swiftly looped the anchor line around her waist. All that was left was to help her climb up onto the wall and Savron would take her from there.

A glint of light reflecting off a metallic surface caught Aramis's eye, automatically drawing his gaze to a rooftop across from the Chatelet. It only took a split moment for his instincts to scream at him, and he yanked Anne down so sharply he almost toppled the stack of crates beneath them. A musket shot sounded like thunder and a ball ricocheted off the stone wall.

"Rhaego!" Aramis yelled.

He heard his dragon screech in response and a thwack of wings as Rhaego launched himself toward the shooter. Aramis shot his head up to check it was clear, and with Rhaego descending on the sniper's nest, he resumed pushing Anne up onto Savron's back.

"Go!"

Savron lifted into the air with a mighty flap of his wings and turned toward the palace.

Aramis glanced back down at the skirmish with the prisoners. There were only a few left and the musketeers were swiftly dispatching them. He carefully climbed back down the crates to the ground and retrieved one of his pistols. The other soldiers and guards were picking through the bodies for weapons.

Porthos looked around the carnage in dismay. "What the hell jus' happened?"

Aramis shook his head, surprised by it as well. How had so many prisoners gotten loose?

"Athos!" Alain jogged over. "I saw Vadim escape during the chaos."

"What?" d'Artagnan exclaimed.

"You're sure?" Athos checked.

Alain nodded grimly.

"Oh, I bet this was his doing all along," Porthos growled.

D'Artagnan suddenly jerked ramrod straight. "The captain…"

Aramis swept his gaze around the courtyard but didn't see Treville. If he had been with Vadim but Vadim had escaped…

All five of them simultaneously turned and sprinted toward the prison. They ran past empty cells with doors hanging open until they came to the one Vadim had been in. There were two bodies on the floor and blood everywhere. One was utterly still while the other was jerking and choking.

Aramis pushed past the others to reach Treville first, heart leaping into his throat at how much red was staining the captain's chest. "Get him up!" he barked, slipping his arms under Treville's.

Porthos and Athos surged inside to help lift him.

"I'll find a stretcher," Alain offered, backing up.

"No time," Aramis snapped. "I need to get him back to the garrison. Run ahead to the palace and get Doctor Lemay to meet us there!"

Alain turned and bolted down the corridor. The rest of them followed at a hampered but quickly shuffling pace as they carried Treville through the dark prison passages and out into the courtyard. Startled sounds rippled through the musketeers gathered outside.

"Where's Rhaego?" Aramis asked sharply. He couldn't have gone far after the shooter…

"Next roof over," someone replied.

Aramis veered toward the main gate, shouting for his dragon. Rhaego swept down and landed in the street outside. D'Artagnan stepped in and took Treville from Aramis so he could climb into the saddle. Then the others passed the captain up to him. Treville continued to twitch and gasp against Aramis's chest. It meant he was alive, but the jerky, choking movements also filled Aramis with dread. He didn't know how bad it was…if there wouldn't be anything for Lemay to do.

Aramis shoved those thoughts away and tightened his arms around his captain as he gripped the pommel. "Rhaego, the garrison," he said urgently.

His dragon flapped his wings and launched into the air, leaving everyone else behind.

The flight was quick, and they arrived before Alain would have been able to find Doctor Lemay. Still, Aramis knew enough about field medicine to start.

"I need help!" he shouted as Rhaego landed.

Cornet and Etienne ran forward, their eyes blowing wide at the sight of their captain injured in Aramis's arms.

"Doctor Lemay's already been sent for," he explained quickly as they carried Treville into the infirmary and set him on the nearest bed to the door. Once there, they quickly began to divest him of his weapons belt and coat. There was a gunshot wound high in his chest.

"Help me lift him," Aramis instructed.

Cornet and Etienne took Treville by the hip and shoulders and rocked him onto one side so Aramis could look at his back.

"Damn it, no exit wound." He moved away to grab a bottle of wine from one of the cabinets. Coming back, he uncorked it and poured a healthy amount into the wound.

Treville immediately convulsed and choked in agony.

"Captain, it's me, Etienne. You're at the garrison," Etienne tried to soothe him.

Aramis shucked his own coat off and rolled up his sleeves. Then he retrieved a pair of forceps and bent over the wound. "Hold him."

Etienne and Cornet did as told, and Aramis inserted the implement into the wound. All three of them had to ignore the desperate, distressed sounds coming from their captain as Aramis dug the ball out. He just finished when Alain and Doctor Lemay burst into the room.

"What do you have?" Lemay demanded.

"I just pulled the ball out," Aramis reported, stepping back to let the doctor get a good look at the situation.

Lemay leaned over Treville, first visually examining the wound and then palpating the area. "He is struggling for air. Most probably the ball damaged a lung."

Aramis was afraid of that.

Lemay bent an ear to the captain's stuttering chest. "There is fluid in his lung. We have to drain it."

"How?" Aramis asked incredulously.

"Much the same way one would drain a keg of wine." Lemay moved away from the bed and toward his satchel, then came back with a scalpel and short tube.

Aramis eyed them nervously.

"Hold him near the edge," Lemay instructed.

The musketeers moved in again, watching warily as bubbling, labored breaths eked past Treville's lips. Lemay poked the scalpel into the side of his chest between two ribs. Treville cried out in pain and arched underneath them. They tried to shush him, though this entire time he hadn't seemed aware of them at all.

"Be ready to collect the blood," Lemay said.

Treville's movements were weaker now, so Aramis broke away and grabbed a bowl off the counter. He swept back around and held it under the edge of the bed as pinkish fluid began to flow out.

"Are you sure this will work?"

"I have not had occasion to perform this operation before," Lemay admitted. "But the principle is sound…in theory."

Etienne and Cornet exchanged another set of uncertain looks at that. Aramis was going to trust in the doctor's expertise—and pray.

Treville gasped and coughed beneath them.

"Take this," Lemay said, handing Aramis the scalpel. "The tube."

Aramis quickly traded items with him. Lemay inserted the tube into Treville's chest and then waited. After a tense moment, the captain's breathing gradually became less labored and he finally sucked in a deeper inhalation. And they all exhaled in relief.

Lemay nodded in satisfaction. "Secure that with a dressing. We must let all the fluid drain out before stitching the wound."

Aramis nodded as he went to grab some bandages.

"Your captain should make a speedy recovery now."

"Thank you," Cornet said. "You saved his life."

"It was a team effort," Lemay replied. "But, yes, I believe we did."

Aramis finished securing the exposed tube with a dressing just as Athos, Porthos, and d'Artagnan came barging into the infirmary.

"How is he?" d'Artagnan asked worriedly.

"Doctor Lemay believes he will recover," Aramis answered, going to grab a cloth to clean his hands.

"What happened?" Cornet asked.

"It appears Vadim had help orchestrating an escape from the Chatelet," Athos replied.

"What about the sniper who took a shot at the Queen?" Aramis put in.

"We didn't find him. The assassination plot may have been Vadim's from the start."

"But then why tell us about it?" Etienne questioned.

They exchanged a series of silent looks, at a loss. They had many questions, no answers, and their main lead was gone.


	3. Chapter 3

"How could you fail to eliminate not one but _both_ targets?" Richelieu raged at Gallagher. "I was under the impression I'd hired the best man for the job but apparently I got myself an imbecile!"

The Irishman remained stoic under the verbal assault. "My man in the prison failed. If he hadn't been killed, I would have shot him myself. As for the Queen, I almost hit her."

Richelieu stepped close into his space. "Almost is not good enough!" he seethed.

"I couldn't risk taking another shot with a dragon coming at my position," Gallagher continued, still in that sedate tone. He drew his chin up. "But I have taken an oath and I won't stop until my vow to you is fulfilled."

Richelieu scowled and spun on his heel. The only good thing to come of this debacle was Treville was out of the way for the moment and his musketeers were likely to be in disarray at their captain's injury. Still, that was little consolation in the grand scheme of things.

"We've lost the element of surprise," he snapped. "And now I have to counsel the King and Queen against their public appearance at Easter Mass where we were originally supposed to strike!"

Gallagher said nothing.

Richelieu began to pace, his mind awhirl with potential strategies on how to salvage this. But none were coming to him.

He clenched his fists and pivoted back toward Gallagher. "Wait for instruction on the primary mission," he barked. "But hunt down this Vadim and get rid of him before he can cause any more trouble!"

Gallagher inclined his head in understanding and turned to leave.

Richelieu continued to seethe where he stood. Things were spiraling out of control and he needed to rein them back in quickly. Worst case scenario was the Queen's untimely demise would have to be postponed for a while.

In which time she could only exert more and more influence over Louis and undermine Richelieu's authority at every turn.

No, Anne needed to be handled now. And he needed to find a way to take those wretched musketeers down with her.

.o.0.o.

Athos finished the duty roster for the day and handed it off to someone else to relay to the rest of the men. He briefly thought of the day-to-day paperwork in the captain's office, but with Vadim at large and the assassination plot still to contend with, he didn't think it vitally important at the moment.

He descended the steps down to the yard just as Cornet was returning through the front gate. Both men adjusted course to meet each other halfway.

"None of the guards at the Chatelet recognized the slain man in Vadim's cell," Cornet reported. "He wasn't one of them."

"So one of Vadim's men," Athos posited.

"Perhaps, but maybe not. I recognized a tattoo on the man's wrist. It was the mark of Hugh O'Neill, a Catholic chieftain who was exiled from Ireland, had his land taken. Men bearing this brand were O'Neill's private guard."

"Soldiers?"

Cornet's lips thinned. "Much more than just soldiers. More like musketeers."

Athos's mouth turned down. That didn't sound like someone who would throw his lot in with a common criminal like Vadim.

"I also found a promissory note on his person," Cornet went on. "To be cashed at a moneylender's in the Rue de Bonnasse, here in Paris. That's my next stop."

Athos nodded.

"How's the captain?"

"I haven't checked this morning," Athos admitted.

They both turned to head toward the infirmary, yet the door opened before they could reach it and Aramis stepped out.

"I was just coming to get you. He's awake."

They quickened their pace to go inside.

Treville was pale next to the bedsheets and bandages wrapped around him but slightly elevated against a stack of pillows at his back. His eyelids opened and drooped in a slow, hypnotic fashion.

"Sir?" Cornet prompted.

Treville forced his eyes open wider. "Vadim?" he asked hoarsely.

"Still out there," Athos answered. "The man who came to his cell wasn't an actual guard. It seems he was there to help Vadim escape."

Treville's brows knitted together. "No…" he whispered. "He was there to…kill Vadim."

Athos exchanged a look with the others. "You're certain?"

Treville nodded, closing his eyes. "Perhaps Vadim did…overhear something…he shouldn't have."

"That would mean the assassination plot is real," Aramis said softly.

Athos nodded grimly. "We need to find Vadim."

The captain appeared to be drifting off, so the three of them quietly moved their conversation outside.

"I'll follow the trail of the promissory note," Cornet said. "You'll inform the King?"

Athos's jaw ticked at Cornet passing _that_ duty off on him. "Very well." He turned to Aramis. "Where are Porthos and d'Artagnan?"

"I think they're helping with the dragons."

Athos and Aramis headed that direction, Cornet heading off in the other. Sure enough, the other half of their group were helping Constance and Jean distribute breakfast to the resident dragons.

"How's the captain?" Constance asked, spotting them first.

"Recovering," Aramis replied tiredly. He'd spent a good portion of the night watching over Treville to make sure he didn't suddenly take a turn for the worse.

"Thank goodness," Jean said.

Athos looked to Porthos and d'Artagnan. "It seems Vadim was the target of yesterday's attack at the prison, suggesting the assassination plot is real and he does know something someone doesn't want him to share. I want you two to go back to his mistress's house and see if she knows where he might be hiding out." He turned to Aramis. "You're with me."

They immediately split up to their assigned tasks.

"I think I should have gone to Suzette Pinault's house," Aramis commented mildly.

Athos scoffed at the notion, but he recognized his friend's attempt to lighten the mood given they were about to have a very difficult conversation with the King.

They reached the palace and were escorted to one of the many opulent receiving rooms where they awaited the King and Queen. And Cardinal Richelieu, of course. Athos stoically stood before them and recounted what they knew.

"The threat to Your Majesty's life is real and immediate," he concluded.

The Cardinal nodded along. "It would be madness to attend the Easter Mass," he said regrettably.

"Decoys will go in Your Majesties' place," Athos added. "We will lure the assassins from hiding with a false target."

"You're going to let the attempt go ahead?" Anne asked incredulously.

Athos nodded. "We'll catch the conspirators in the act of sedition, hopefully, without a shot being fired."

It was the best way he could see to swiftly bring this to an end when they had so few leads to go on.

Anne slowly shook her head. "The people know their King and Queen too well. It seems to me your plan must fail without the King's authentic presence."

Athos tensed and exchanged a subtle look with Aramis. What exactly was she saying here?

The Queen nodded resolutely. "The Musketeers have protected me once already. I am sure they will do so again." She moved closer to Louis and took his hand. "The King and I should attend Mass as planned."

Louis looked thoughtfully down at their joined hands, then up again. "My father never shirked public obligation, no matter the threat to his person."

"Your Majesty," Athos interjected. "With all due respect, your father was assassinated. It's simply a matter of common sense to stay away."

"Common sense is for commoners, not for Kings," Louis replied haughtily. "I will not have it said that the son of Henri IV is a coward. It is my task to show courage and leadership. It's yours to protect me."

Athos could only stand there floundering like a fish out of water.

"Well," the Cardinal spoke up. "Let us hope the Musketeers are every bit as capable as they have proven to be in the past."

Athos bristled at the statement and the snide look Richelieu cast their way as he departed with the King and Queen.

"That did not go how I thought it would," Aramis murmured.

"No," Athos agreed.

.o.0.o.

"I've never been this close to a musketeer with my clothes on," Suzette said, lounging on her bed and raking sultry eyes over d'Artagnan and Porthos. "I must be in trouble."

"We know you've seen Vadim, Suzette," d'Artagnan said, not enthralled.

"You have a choice," Porthos added gruffly. "You can go to the gallows wit' him…or you can save yerself."

"I'm not denying anything," she responded. "You did catch him here, after all."

"Why didn't you report him when he first arrived?" d'Artagnan asked.

"Because I don't want to get involved with the guards," she said tartly. "Besides, we used to be quite close."

Porthos snorted and d'Artagnan rolled his eyes. Yeah, they were close when the musketeers barged in here the other night.

"Someone tried to kill Vadim in prison," d'Artagnan said, changing tact. "With him in the wind, those same people could come here looking for him just like we did."

Her eyes flashed darkly. "And I'll tell them the same: I don't know where he is."

"And if they don't believe you?" d'Artagnan challenged. "Suzette, your life could be in danger."

"You offering to be my protection?" she rejoined, fanning herself suggestively. "You could stake out my house…from my bed."

He scowled and turned away.

"Where did you first meet Vadim?" Porthos tried next.

Suzette flicked a bored look his way. "At the Louvre Palace. I was a scullery maid, he was a servant."

"Vadim worked at the palace?" d'Artagnan asked in surprise.

"For two years."

He moved closer to Porthos and lowered his voice. "Vadim would know the ins and outs of the palace. That information would be valuable to a group of assassins."

"So maybe he 'heard' about this plot because he _was_ helpin' 'em from the beginning."

D'Artagnan shook his head in frustration. He just couldn't figure Vadim out. What was his game?

Suzette huffed. "Look, if I knew any more, I'd tell you."

D'Artagnan arched a brow at Porthos, who snorted.

"Alright, we believe you."

They turned to leave.

Suzette leaned forward on the edge of her bed. "Any time you want your sword polished, handsome, let me know."

D'Artagnan rolled his eyes and walked out.

"We're still nowhere," Porthos growled as they exited onto the street.

"Let's hope Cornet found something," d'Artagnan said.

They made their way back to the garrison where Athos, Aramis, and Cornet had already reconvened at the table beneath the captain's office. Athos wordlessly poured them both cups of wine before asking what they'd found out.

"Turns out Vadim used to work at the palace," d'Artagnan reported.

"He could certainly use what he knows to help some assassins sneak in," Porthos added.

The others frowned at the information.

"I'll send extra guards to cover the interior," Athos said. He turned to Cornet. "What about the promissory note?"

"The moneylender was another dead end, literally. Someone else had gotten to him first, stabbed right through the heart. And a page from his ledger had been torn out."

D'Artagnan clenched his fists in mounting frustration. "What now?"

"You and Porthos keep after Vadim," Athos said.

"How? We don't know where to look."

"He might return to his mistress again," Aramis suggested.

"What about Rhaego?" d'Artagnan asked. "Can't he try to track him?"

"Not without something to get a scent from." Aramis straightened in his seat. "Actually, I was thinking of taking him back up to the sniper's perch. Maybe he can get something from there. I should have thought of it yesterday, but the captain…"

"A lot was happening yesterday," Athos acknowledged. "Go ahead with Rhaego back to the prison. And you two go back to Suzette Pinault's. At the moment, she's all we have to go on. The rest of us will focus on protecting the King and Queen at Mass tomorrow. The assassins might be working with Vadim to attack within the palace, but we can't know for sure."

D'Artagnan drained his cup glumly and stood up. He thought Vadim would have to be stupid to go back to Suzette's house after being caught there the first time. He'd rather be on guard duty at the palace, especially since there was a greater chance of something actually happening there. But he knew sometimes a musketeer's duty included grunt work. And Vadim _was_ still their best lead. Maybe the assassins would even go looking for him at Suzette's like they'd warned her of and they could finally catch one of them.

Porthos grumbled under his breath as he got to his feet as well, mentioning something about not staking out a house on an empty stomach. D'Artagnan waited while he took a side trip into the mess and came back out with some meat and cheese stuffed into a roll.

"Nothing for me?" d'Artagnan asked in mock affront.

"Get yer own," Porthos retorted around a mouthful.

D'Artagnan rolled his eyes and fell into step beside him as they exited the garrison and made their way back to Suzette's house. Once there, Porthos took up position in the alley across the street while d'Artagnan nonchalantly went around asking if anyone had recently gone into the place. He returned to Porthos after a few minutes.

"No one's seen anyone going in since we left."

Porthos snorted. "Vadim's not gonna risk comin' back here."

"Maybe," d'Artagnan conceded. "Or maybe he knows we think he won't and so he will."

Porthos shot him a dry look. Yeah, neither of them liked the prospect of inaction. Especially when the stakes of being caught unawares were so high.

They loitered in the alleyway, scuffing their boots through the dirt in restless impatience. D'Artagnan wondered if Aramis and Rhaego were having any luck.

A drop of water splashed on d'Artagnan's forehead.

"Oh, jus' great," Porthos groused as more rain began to fall.

D'Artagnan folded his arms across his chest in an effort to make himself as small as possible. The rain drummed harder, turning the dirt beneath their feet to squelching mud. He shifted in discomfort.

"Hang on," he said, narrowing his gaze at the window of Suzette's bedroom. The curtain was fluttering around the frame. "Why hasn't she closed up?" he mused aloud.

Porthos furrowed his brow and followed his gaze. "It's not that cold."

"No, but her vanity is right under the window. She wouldn't want her things getting wet."

D'Artagnan suddenly had a bad feeling and he pushed away from the wall to exit the alley and cross the street.

"Oy!" Porthos called after him, hastening to catch up.

D'Artagnan didn't bother knocking and barged into the house. It was eerily silent as he marched up to Suzette's bedroom. Her door was slightly ajar. With his hand on his pistol, d'Artagnan pushed it open.

He pulled up short and nearly turned to punch the wall at the sight of Suzette splayed across the bed, bright crimson painting the front of her dress from a stab wound in her chest. Wide open eyes stared vacantly at the ceiling.

"Damn it," Porthos cursed behind him.

They moved closer to the bed to get a better look, d'Artagnan's stomach churning. In addition to the knife wound, there was some redness and swelling on her face, as though she'd been slapped around.

"Probably happened before we even got back here," Porthos said.

D'Artagnan nodded numbly. They shouldn't have left her, shouldn't have taken the threat they'd warned her with so idly.

"I'll get Athos," Porthos said softly and left, leaving d'Artagnan alone with her body.

He roved his gaze around the room. Nothing else was disturbed. He wondered if whoever had been here had gotten information on where to find Vadim. The rain continued to thrum on the rooftop and he moved to close the window.

Some time later, Porthos returned with Athos. None of them said anything for several long moments.

"In the morning you two should speak with whoever Vadim worked under at the palace," Athos finally said.

"Did Aramis and Rhaego find anythin'?" Porthos asked.

Athos shook his head. "The trail went cold quickly. These assassins are skilled in infiltration and evasion."

They fell silent again. That didn't really bode well for them.

Athos summoned the guards to deal with the body and sent Porthos and d'Artagnan home.

Constance and Jean were sitting at the dinner table when d'Artagnan trudged in.

"You're soaked!" Constance exclaimed, getting up and rushing over to help him out of his coat.

"Everything all right, my boy?" Jean asked, eyeing him in concern.

D'Artagnan shook his head. "We keep losing all our leads on this assassination plot and people keep dying…" His shoulders slumped and he shivered as Constance finally pulled his jacket off. "I'm worried we won't be able to stop it."

Constance shared a worried look with her father before steering d'Artagnan toward the cooking fire. She hung his coat up and then poured him a cup of wine, which she pressed into his hands.

He looked up sharply. "I don't want you two going to Mass tomorrow."

"But we always go," Jean started. "And the King and Queen…"

"I know," d'Artagnan interrupted. "But, please. Don't go tomorrow."

Constance laid a hand on his arm. "All right," she solemnly agreed. "We won't go." She gave him an earnest squeeze. "Be careful," she urged.

D'Artagnan nodded grimly. He wouldn't be at Mass tomorrow and therefore wouldn't be in immediate danger.

But that didn't make him feel better; in fact, it made him feel worse.


	4. Chapter 4

The next morning, while the rest of the musketeers were getting ready to accompany the King and Queen to Easter Mass, d'Artagnan and Porthos went through the palace in search of Lavoie, First Gentleman of the Bedchamber. A servant finally pointed them in the direction of an older man with long gray hair and enough powder on his face he looked pasty. He carried a gold filigreed staff as though he were the most regal gentleman to walk these halls.

"Excuse me, Monsieur Lavoie?" d'Artagnan queried.

"Yes?" he answered primly, giving them a scouring once-over. Only after his eyes glanced across their pauldrons did he stop to give them half his attention.

"We'd like to ask you about a man who used to work here. His name was Vadim."

"Hm, very well." But before d'Artagnan could go on, Lavoie tsked at a servant scurrying past and chastised her for having wilted roses in the vase she was carrying. "Those absolutely cannot go in the Queen's bedchamber!"

The maid winced and immediately turned tail to head back the way she'd come.

"We appreciate you're a busy man, Monsieur Lavoie," d'Artagnan said, trying to capture his attention again.

Lavoie turned back to them, brow furrowed. "As it happens, I do remember Vadim. Gutter-born, but his intelligence and pleasant looks caught my eye. I thought perhaps, with my patronage, he might make something of himself."

"What were his duties?" Porthos asked.

"Menial tasks in the kitchens."

"Did he ever come into contact with the King?" d'Artagnan asked next.

"A grease-stained servant? I should say not," Lavoie scoffed. "Only the most favored members of the nobility are granted the exquisite honor of gazing on the Royal countenance. I am pleased to include myself in that number."

D'Artagnan caught Porthos pulling a face and smiled at Lavoie to keep him from noticing. "How did Vadim respond to your, erm…patronage?"

Lavoie huffed disdainfully. "With base ingratitude." He paused for a moment in thought. "There was an incident. A priceless item of the Queen's jewelry went missing. Vadim was near the scene."

"What was he doing in the Queen's apartments?" Porthos asked.

"I showed him round," Lavoie said, half defensive, half abashed. "As part of his education, you understand."

"An'…what was this missing item?"

"A diamond pendant."

D'Artagnan shot him an incredulous look. "Why wasn't Vadim arrested?"

"One moment he was in the hall outside, the next he'd disappeared, like some Arabian genie." Lavoie shrugged. "I never saw him again."

D'Artagnan and Porthos exchanged knowing looks. That sounded like something some assassins would be interested in.

"Can you show us where this took place?"

Lavoie nodded and inclined his head for them to follow. He led them through the palace and down to one of the lower levels. "It was right here." He gestured to the hall.

D'Artagnan and Porthos moved to examine the walls, running their hands over wainscoting and iron candle fixtures.

"What are you doing?" Lavoie asked.

Before they could answer, d'Artagnan tugged on an iron rod and the wall creaked as it detached from the adjoining panel. He wedged his shoulder into the crack and nudged it open.

"Guess we know how Vadim disappeared," he said.

"You know about this?" Porthos asked Lavoie.

The man sputtered in shock. "There are tunnels beneath the palace, from before the Louvre was built over the existing foundation. I didn't know about this entrance."

"But there are others?" d'Artagnan pressed.

Lavoie gave a jerky nod. "I would imagine so."

"Seems like the perfect way to sneak in and commit murder," Porthos muttered.

"Vadim could be hiding out down there. So could the assassins. It would be easier to strike against the King when he's unaware in his own palace."

Porthos nodded in agreement and drew his pistol. "Let's check it out."

D'Artagnan unclipped his from his belt and together they ventured down the musty steps. The light from the corridor above didn't extend far, but there were long forgotten torches in wall sconces on the next landing. D'Artagnan tucked his pistol under his arm and pulled out his flint to light one. The first few sparks failed to catch.

"Hurry up," Porthos hissed.

"When's the last time you even carried one of these?" d'Artagnan snipped, adding under his breath, "Spoiled by your dragon."

"I give you two weeks in the field with Ayelet," Porthos grumbled back.

D'Artagnan snorted, but finally he struck enough of a spark to light the torch. He used it to transfer flame to another, which Porthos plucked from its sconce. Then they continued their descent into the underground tunnels.

"Which way?" d'Artagnan asked as they came to the first junction.

Porthos's jaw ticked as he flicked his torch up and down the various passages. Then he stilled. "Hey, see that?"

D'Artagnan followed his line of sight and squinted. There in the darkness he detected what looked like the faintest halo of light emanating from somewhere further in. He nodded to Porthos, and they silently moved forward. The light was getting brighter as they neared the corner. There were no voices, but d'Artagnan didn't expect a group of assassins to be boisterous.

Gripping his pistol at the ready and exchanging a resolute look with Porthos, they swept around the corner. But it was only Vadim in the tunnels. The man pulled up short, his brows shooting upward. He didn't have a weapon in hand, just a torch.

"Well, this is a surprise."

D'Artagnan gritted his teeth. "It's over, Vadim. We know about the tunnels. The assassins won't be getting into the palace this way."

Vadim's face cracked into a sly smile. "Who said they were coming here?"

D'Artagnan faltered and glanced uncertainly at Porthos.

"Enough of yer games," Porthos growled.

"Suzette's dead," d'Artagnan added. "Murdered by the same people who tried to kill you in the Chatelet. Why keep protecting them?"

Vadim's smug expression slipped. "I was never protecting them," he said, what sounded like real grief in his voice. "I was looking out for my best interests."

"Like when you left our captain to bleed out in that cell?" Porthos snarled.

Vadim glared back at them, but then after a moment cocked his head. "You want to know about the assassins? By my count, the King and Queen should be on their way to Mass right now. That's where the attack will happen."

D'Artagnan flicked an alarmed look at Porthos.

"Why should we believe you?" Porthos snapped.

Vadim spread his arms. "You don't see them here, do you?"

"You didn't tell them how to get into the palace through these tunnels?" d'Artagnan pressed.

"No. I told you from the start, I had nothing to do with the plot."

D'Artagnan now threw a harried glance at Porthos. "Go."

Porthos turned without another word and took off back toward the stairs.

D'Artagnan whipped back toward Vadim, pistol still raised. "You should have cooperated when you had the chance. Now you're going to hang."

"Don't you want to know where the gunpowder is?" Vadim asked with a widening grin.

"Shut up and let's go."

"I only stole it after I learned of the assassination plot," he continued.

"You're still going to maintain that you were trying to thwart them?" d'Artagnan scowled.

"No, not at all. Oh, they bought gunpowder. I imagine it will be quite the spectacle out there."

D'Artagnan's throat tightened with worry for everyone, and he was furious that he was stuck having to bring Vadim in when he should be with his brothers doing his duty.

"But that's not why I then stole my own supply."

"Then why?" he snapped impatiently.

Vadim smirked and slowly opened his closed hand to let his torch drop to the ground. D'Artagnan frowned.

"Because what better distraction than an assassination to keep everyone's attention away from my plans?" Vadim then carefully raised his hands to plug his fingers into his ears. He mouthed a single word: " _Boom_."

And the tunnel exploded.

.o.0.o.

Aramis kept his eyes peeled as he walked down the street a few paces in front of the royals. Athos was beside him, Cornet and Etienne were two steps behind the King and Queen, and a handful of other musketeers were weaving through the crowd itself. Dragons perched on rooftops kept a lookout from above, while Savron was on the ground walking in the lead ahead of Aramis and Athos, the large dragon clearing a path and acting as a massive shield in the front. They could not have presented more of a show of force, and yet Aramis still felt too exposed.

The people gathered in the streets and cheered for their King and Queen, some tossing flower petals into the air. Every sudden movement made Aramis snap his gaze that direction, but as of yet nothing seemed amiss.

He briefly glanced over his shoulder at the royals. He was impressed with how the Queen conducted herself; despite knowing the potential threat she was walking into, she smiled and waved to her subjects. Louis acknowledged them as well, though with a more subdued air. The Cardinal trailed behind them with other members of the clergy and a flanking of red guards, his posture tense.

Aramis shifted his gaze back to the crowd. He made eye contact with Pierre over the heads of some of the people before they both kept their gazes roving for any sign of threat. Aramis scanned the rooftops for metallic glints, but he didn't imagine a sniper would be able to maintain his nest with so many dragons perched nearby. No, if the assassins wanted to succeed, they would have to get close—and go through an army to reach their targets.

An explosion suddenly ripped through a building up ahead, followed by another that rocked the ground from behind. Rubble and smoke spewed in every direction, sending the dragons that had been stationed on those buildings into the air to escape the bombardment. People screamed and ran, the entire street erupting into chaos.

Aramis whirled back around to find the King and Queen. He spotted a handful of red guards scurrying the King away…but no one had grabbed the Queen. She stood in the middle of the mayhem, arms thrown up over her head as bits of dirt and detritus rained down from above. Aramis surged forward, reaching her the same time as Athos.

"This way!" Athos shouted. He and Aramis hemmed Anne between them and started to move out of the street.

More explosions burst from other buildings all around them, forcing them to change direction. By the time they found a way through the growing smoke and fleeing bodies, their only course was to duck down a side alley, at which point Aramis had lost sight of anyone else, and he imagined the other musketeers had lost sight of them as well.

They ushered the Queen down the alley, only to pull up short when a group of masked men moved in ahead to block their path. Aramis and Athos whipped their gazes around for options. They couldn't go back the way they'd come.

Athos kicked in a side door, then gestured sharply for them to move. Aramis pushed Anne ahead as the men down the alley drew pistols. Aramis whipped his out and fired first, then ducked into the building. Athos pressed himself against the door jamb and fired off a shot as well, then retreated and slammed the door shut. He looked around frantically for something to barricade the door while Aramis reloaded his pistol. Anne stood in the middle of the dark storeroom, quivering as distant explosions continued to thunder outside.

Athos just got a plank of wood wedged under the door handle as someone rammed against it from the other side. He froze for a moment, waiting to see if it would hold.

"We just want the Queen," someone shouted. "Hand her over and you can live."

Aramis snorted to himself.

"See if there's another way out of here," Athos whispered.

Aramis swiftly crossed the room in search of another door. While being in here offered them some protection, they were essentially trapped…and no one had any way of knowing where they were or that they needed help. As vulnerable as being out in the open was, it gave them a better chance of reuniting with reinforcements.

He found a door at the top of some short steps, but it was locked. "Athos!" he hissed.

Athos moved away from the door as it juddered underneath another impact.

"Use a ball on this or save it for the men about to come through that door?" Aramis queried.

Athos's mouth pressed into a thin line but he quickly nodded. "Shoot it." He took the Queen's arm and gently guided her away, angling himself to shield her.

Aramis removed his hat and held it up in front of his face as he aimed his pistol at the lock and fired. The ball ricocheted loudly and sparks sizzled in the dim storeroom, but the lock fell off. Aramis swept through the door first, trading his spent pistol for his sword. He didn't encounter anyone on the other side, whether civilian or foe. A few seconds later he heard a loud crash behind them and assumed the assassins had broken in. Not a moment too soon.

Aramis quickened his pace through the house until the three of them spilled out into the street on the other side. He forgot to count on the assassins having sent men around to head them off. Several masked figures with swords drawn charged.

Aramis threw himself forward to meet them, the clash of steel barely ringing out above the din of chaos still echoing through the neighborhood. He tried to keep the Queen shielded behind him, but more men were coming through the house on their tail and soon they would be surrounded. Aramis switched to defensive parries and backed up until he and Athos were fighting nearly back to back, with Anne wedged between them.

Aramis was just about to lose hope that they could stand against this overwhelming force, when the most blessed series of dragon screeches sounded from above. Several dragons swooped down, slashing talons at the masked men. Savron flew in and pulled upright at the last moment, his belly glowing brightly. Aramis and Athos knew simultaneously what he was planning and pulled the Queen away from the house. Savron unleashed a geyser of fire through the door, consuming the men coming out that way.

Some began to flee with the dragons' arrival, but others pressed on, doggedly darting in toward the musketeers in a last-ditch effort to get at the Queen.

Aramis threw his blade up to block a blow, and while the swords were locked, he pulled out his second pistol and shot the assassin in the stomach.

Athos was furiously dueling with another man, driving him backward and away from Anne. The masked assassin's eyes were hard as granite and just as firm with determination, but Athos proved the better swordsman and with one swift thrust, ran the assassin through the heart.

He must have been the leader, because when he fell, the rest of the men began to scatter. The Musketeer dragons pursued them, save for Savron who landed in the street next to Athos.

Aramis sheathed his sword and turned to Anne. "Are you all right?"

Her lip was quivering but she nodded shakily. "Thanks to my loyal musketeers."

"We must get you back to the palace," Athos said.

Anne's eyes suddenly widened. "The King!"

"With any luck, he will be there," Athos replied neutrally. He beckoned her forward and helped lift her onto Savron's back.

Aramis turned his gaze toward the sky and let out a shrill whistle. A few moments later, Rhaego swooped down to join them, to Aramis's relief. He wanted to personally ensure Anne got safely returned to the palace, but Savron couldn't carry three of them.

When they were all mounted, they launched into the sky. Aramis looked down in dismay at the destruction that had been wrought on that city block. The explosions had ceased and the dust was settling now, but the casualties had to be numerous. His heart clenched wondering how many musketeers had been wounded or killed in the assault.

They barely landed on the palace grounds when the King came bursting out of the Louvre.

"Anne!" he cried, looking genuinely distraught. "Oh thank God, I thought you were dead." He hesitantly reached out to grip her arms.

"I'm all right," she assured him. "Thanks to our Musketeers, as always."

"But if not for the Musketeers, that city block would still be standing," the Cardinal put in waspishly, appearing on the landing.

Aramis bristled. Like Richelieu's Red Guard had done any better.

"The assassins brought the gunpowder, not the Musketeers," Anne replied, unfazed.

"Gunpowder Vadim stole. They were tasked with finding out where it was and what the assassins were planning, were they not?" the Cardinal rejoined. For all his usual bluster, he also appeared visibly shaken.

"I think we should let them finish their work before we lay blame anywhere," Anne said primly. She looked to Aramis and Athos, her expression softening. "There is much work left to be done before closing the matter, is there not?"

"Yes, Your Majesty," Athos said. "We still don't have all the facts."

She nodded. "Then we will await your full report when you do." She turned back to her husband with a small smile. "I think I would like to sit down."

"Of course, of course!" he exclaimed and hurried to escort her into the palace, completely ignoring the Cardinal's seething glower at their backs.

"You'd think he'd be grateful we saved the Queen's life," Aramis muttered under his breath.

"Hm," was all Athos said in response, his eyes narrowed on Richelieu. "Let's get back. The Queen is right; there's still a lot of work to be done."

.o.0.o.

D'Artagnan coughed himself into wakefulness, rolling onto his side and hacking up the mouthful of dust that clogged his throat. He blinked at the heavy haze filling the tunnel. What the hell…

Remembering Vadim, d'Artagnan scrambled to his feet and whirled around in search of the thief. He wasn't among the bits of rubble that had shaken loose from the impact of the explosion. An explosion Vadim had known was coming. But if the assassins were at the Easter parade, what was Vadim doing down here?

D'Artagnan snatched up one of the torches that had remained lit, drew his sword, and staggered into the darkness. It only occurred to him after he'd taken a couple of turns that he had no idea where he was going—or how to find his way back. And there was still no sign of Vadim.

The tunnels seemed to stretch in an endless network, and d'Artagnan began to feel real fear that he could be lost down here for days.

He almost tripped over a chunk of rock and swung his torch at the opening of a dark passage. There seemed to be a flicker of light at the end through a gap in the stone. D'Artagnan crept toward it and frowned at the corridor lit with torches and prison cells. The Chatelet? Then he had gone way past the palace. He almost tried to squeeze through the gap just to get out, but Vadim was down here somewhere and d'Artagnan couldn't let him get away. Besides, he at least now knew where he was and which direction to head.

He started to make his way back, keeping better track of the turns he took.

Noises up ahead had him slowing his pace and raising his guard. He couldn't make them out, so he ventured forward. Light suffused from an opening several feet down the tunnel, and he dropped his own torch on the ground so as not to draw attention as he crept closer.

The tunnel opened up into a massive underground cavern brightly lit with multiple fire pits. There were work stations along one side and a huge armory with swords and muskets. D'Artagnan caught sight of Red Guard uniforms as men milled around the place.

But that wasn't the most shocking discovery. Because in the midst of all this, the cavern was also filled with over two dozen red dragons.


	5. Chapter 5

Porthos pushed his way through dazed people clustered at the edge of the destruction that had decimated a whole city block. He whipped his gaze around in shock, searching for familiar faces. He'd heard the explosions on his way out of the palace, had even felt some of the vibrations, but by the time he'd arrived the attack had been mostly over.

He finally spotted a musketeer. "Cornet!"

The lieutenant turned toward him, face covered in grime and a small cut above his eyebrow trickling a thin line of red down the side of his face.

Porthos made his way over to him. "The King an' Queen?" he asked with dread.

"The King is secure," Cornet answered, expression grim. "I don't know about the Queen. It was chaos. The attacks came from all sides…" He looked around at the devastation. "There were many injuries. Two musketeers are dead."

Porthos stiffened. "Athos an' Aramis?"

Cornet shook his head. "I haven't seen them since the attack began."

A gust of wind overhead drew their attention as Cornet's dragon, Beltane, swooped down with a man in his talons and unceremoniously dropped him at their feet. The brown dragon with subtle orange stripes landed behind his prisoner, ensuring he wouldn't try to escape, not that the man looked to be in much shape to get up, as he was moaning on the ground.

"The mark of Hugh O'Neill," Cornet said, nudging the man's exposed wrist with the toe of his boot.

Porthos crouched down next to him. "Who hired you?"

The man shook his head as he sucked in a pained breath.

"You will hang for this. But tell us what you know and you won't suffer first."

The assassin shot him a baleful glare. "I don't know…anything," he wheezed. "Gallagher was in charge."

"An' where can we find him?" Porthos asked.

The man snorted. "He's dead."

Porthos's lips pressed into a tight line and he straightened.

Cornet waved over Colbert and Pierre from across the street. "Take this one to the Chatelet."

Beltane growled as the prisoner was hauled to his feet and dragged away.

Cornet turned to his dragon. "Any more stragglers can be dropped directly there," he instructed.

With a nod, Beltane backed up and leaped into the sky with a flap of his wings. As he flew out over the city, another two dragons flew in, and Porthos's heart surged with relief as he recognized Savron and Rhaego and the two riders on their backs.

"Athos," Cornet said in equal relief when they landed.

"The Queen is safely back at the palace with the King," Athos reported.

"Thank God," Cornet breathed, visibly sagging as the last weight of the day's events evaporated from his shoulders.

Athos turned to Porthos. "Vadim?"

"We found 'im, in the tunnels that run under the palace. We thought he might be bringin' the assassins in through there, but apparently not." He shrugged as he looked around the wrecked street.

"Where is he now?" Cornet asked.

"I left him wit' d'Artagnan when he told us he knew the attack would happen here. He should be in the Chatelet by now, and I'm sure our boy is worried sick. All of Paris probably heard that battle."

"The leader of the assassins is apparently dead," Cornet filled Athos and Aramis in. "And so far it seems his men below him weren't told the finer details of their mission, such as who hired them."

"Perhaps that is another piece of information Vadim happened to overhear," Athos said.

"He hasn't exactly been very forthcoming," Aramis pointed out.

"He might be now that he knows his mistress was murdered over this," Porthos said.

"I'll finish up here," Cornet put in. "Good luck."

They nodded and turned to remount their dragons. Porthos climbed up behind Athos on Savron and then the three of them flew to the Chatelet. But when they asked the guard about Vadim, they were told he wasn't there.

"D'Artagnan hasn't brought him in?" Porthos asked.

"No," the guard uncaringly replied.

"Perhaps he's still on his way," Aramis suggested.

"We'll head for the palace on foot," Athos decided. "In case he is and we can meet him."

They sent Rhaego and Savron back to the garrison and set off. But they didn't run into d'Artagnan along the way, and they took the most straight path he would have taken escorting Vadim to the prison. Worry was beginning to gnaw at Porthos's gut by the time they reached the palace. Would d'Artagnan have held Vadim there? Why? Or did he think the best way to make sure the King and Queen were safe was to wait there for them?

The musketeers entered the palace and found it in disarray, more so than it should have been given the assassination attempt had been thwarted. Guards were storming up and down the halls and servants skittered out of their way.

Porthos spotted Lavoie and made a beeline toward him. "What's goin' on?"

"It's terrible," the First Gentleman lamented. "The royal vault has been broken into. All those precious jewels, stolen…"

"Broken into?" Aramis repeated. "How?"

"An explosion. By the time we located the source and the dust settled, it had already been ransacked."

Porthos turned to Athos and Aramis. "The gunpowder Vadim stole," he said under his breath.

"No wonder he didn't want to give it up," Aramis said. "He was going to use it to rob the palace."

"And he knew the attack on the King and Queen in the street would cover his own activities," Athos finished.

Porthos clenched his fists. Damn it! That scum had played them from the start.

He turned back to Lavoie. "The other musketeer I was here with, did he come up from the tunnels?"

Lavoie shook his head. "Not that I know of…"

Porthos spun on his heel and headed back for that corridor where they'd found the secret passage, Aramis and Athos following, with Lavoie spluttering on their heels.

Porthos scanned the wall until he found the panel d'Artagnan had discovered, but when he pushed against it, he found it blocked. He slammed his palm against the plaster.

"The explosion outside the vault must have triggered a collapse," Athos said. He turned to Lavoie. "Are there maps of the tunnels?"

"Yes. In fact I was just looking for them when the vault was hit."

"Show us."

They followed Lavoie through the palace and into one of the many libraries, this one with more scrolls than bound books. Lavoie picked his way over several shelves before finally pulling out a piece of parchment.

"Ah, yes, here." He unrolled it and held it up as they gathered around to look.

"There are two other entrances in this wing," Aramis said, pointing to them.

"Vadim won't use them as an escape route," Athos replied. He traced his finger down the parchment. "Here. The tunnels come out along the river. Our best chance to head him off is there."

With silent agreement they turned and swept from the room, leaving Lavoie floundering behind them. They headed for the garrison first to retrieve their dragons, as flying all the way to the river would be quicker. Savron and Rhaego were still saddled but Vrita wasn't. Rather than taking the time to get her tack, Porthos opted to ride bareback. They were in a hurry after all.

It was uncomfortable, having to bend low to Vrita's neck to hold on as she glided over the city. But they arrived at the river's edge without incident…just as Vadim came staggering out of a culvert, arms loaded with jewelry. He pulled up short and blinked in stupefaction at them.

"Surprised again?" Porthos growled, sliding off Vrita's back and drawing his pistol to aim at the thief. "Where's d'Artagnan?"

Vadim's shocked expression slowly morphed into a smirk.

Athos pointed his own pistol at the man. "Is he dead?" he asked, voice taut.

Vadim shrugged. "Don't know. I left him behind after everything went boom." He shifted where he stood, but if he was thinking of running, there was nowhere to go, and his hands were too full of stolen goods to draw a weapon and fight.

That didn't stop him from trying though. Porthos saw the subtle movement of one hand reaching for a pistol tucked under all that treasure. Several pieces of jewelry fell to the filthy mud-covered bank as Vadim raised his arm, but Porthos and Athos fired first. Two pistol shots cracked the air and Vadim fell in a hapless heap just like his jewels.

Porthos exchanged a look with Athos and Aramis, and then the three of them wordlessly plunged into the tunnel to go searching for their missing fourth.

.o.0.o.

D'Artagnan stayed low, crouched behind a chunk of rock at the edge of the tunnel's opening into the cavern as he watched the hoard of dragons mill about. Some were curled up in corners, dozing, while others gnawed on the remains of animal carcasses. Occasionally one would snort and snap at another that got too close.

D'Artagnan didn't understand, how was this even possible? An entire clan of dragons hidden underground beneath the palace? Surely the King didn't know about this; he was the only one in France allowed to amass such a large number of dragons. How were they being kept here with no one the wiser? The feeding alone…

Raised voices from the other end of the cavern drew his attention, and his spine snapped taut as none other than the Cardinal stormed in through another passage. D'Artagnan might have known. It was no secret the Cardinal was jealous of the Musketeers, one of the reasons being their dragon riders. Still, _this_ was staggering.

"All that careful planning," Richelieu raged at the captain of the Red Guard. "And Gallagher failed to kill the Queen, not once, but twice!"

D'Artagnan stiffened. It couldn't be…

"Is Gallagher still alive?" the captain asked.

"No," Richelieu huffed. "So at least that's one less loose end to worry about. He was a man of repute and wouldn't have told his soldiers anything about who hired them. But the fact remains that he failed!"

So the assassination plot wasn't against the King, it was for the Queen. But why? At least d'Artagnan now knew that it hadn't succeeded and the royals were safe. He hoped that meant his brothers were too.

"With the moneylender dead," the captain put in, "there are no more loose ends."

"That was premature," Richelieu snapped. "If Gallagher had succeeded in killing the Queen, he would have turned his sights on us for appearing to double-cross him."

"He shouldn't have let one of his men get caught, even dead," the captain rejoined. "We couldn't just let the musketeers find the ledger."

"What did you do with the page?"

The captain nodded to a table at the other end of the cavern.

"Destroy it."

D'Artagnan straightened. He had to get his hands on that paper.

Casting his gaze around, he snatched up a large pebble and took a steadying breath. Then he arched his arm back and threw it with all his might toward some of the dragons. It clattered off the rock wall and struck one in its sleep, causing it to startle awake with a snarl, which in turn drew the other dragons' attention at the abrupt noise.

With the Cardinal and red guard also distracted, d'Artagnan darted along the edge of the cavern toward the table where the piece of parchment lay. He had to pause long enough to scan the various items and make sure he grabbed the right one—the single sheet with torn edges like it'd been ripped from a book…and the Cardinal's seal next to a promise of payment.

He started to backtrack toward the tunnel when one of the dragons spotted him and belted out an ear-splitting shriek his direction. Every eye in the place snapped toward him.

The Cardinal's eyes blew wide in shock. "Stop him!"

D'Artagnan bolted into a run. Multiple roars sounded behind him, followed by the thumping vibration of lumbering dragons. He scrambled for the narrow passage, making it inside before he was caught. There was a mass of vicious snarls as the dragons skidded to a stop at the opening.

He continued to run, skidding through the silt as he scooped up the torch he'd left on the ground further down. A roar of wind sounded behind him, and his eyes widened as he saw a dragon belching a column of fire into the tunnel.

There was a juncture two steps away and d'Artagnan threw himself into it. The rush of flame and scorching heat blasted past him. Scrabbling to his feet again, he took off down the tunnel.

But just as when he'd first stumbled upon this cavern, he had no idea where he was going or which way was out. The parchment crinkled in his hand as he crushed it in a bruising grip. He had to get this to the Musketeers, at all costs.

He ran full out, taking turns at random in a desperate search for an exit. Torchlight up ahead had him pulling up short and dropping his own light in favor of drawing his sword.

"D'Artagnan?"

He nearly doubled over in shock.

"Where the hell have you been?" Porthos demanded angrily. "We've been lookin' all over."

"We thought Vadim might have killed you," Aramis put in more gently.

D'Artagnan was breathing too heavily to form words, his shoulders heaving.

Athos reached out to clasp his arm in concern. "Are you all right?"

He sucked in another ragged breath, trying to get himself under control. "The Cardinal- he's behind this."

"Behind what?"

"The assassination. He was after the Queen."

His brothers exchanged confused looks.

"What, yer serious?" Porthos said.

"The assassins who followed us," Aramis began thoughtfully, "they were after the Queen."

"Do you have proof?" Athos asked.

D'Artagnan nodded and held up the note. "Also, there's a massive underground cavern down here- filled with dragons. The Cardinal's dragons."

Porthos made a noise of disbelief. "That's impossible."

"I don't know how," d'Artagnan gasped. "But they're there. But we need to get this to the King, now. They know I took it."

The four of them shared alarmed looks and swiftly started moving again. D'Artagnan was grateful the others seemed to know the way out of this underground labyrinth.

It seemed to take forever, though, time felt more acutely under the urgency of their situation. But they finally emerged from the tunnel onto the river bank. D'Artagnan pulled up short in surprise at the sight of Vadim's body.

"Are those…"

"From the royal vault," Athos supplied, heading for Savron. "That was Vadim's plan all along."

D'Artagnan shook himself out of his momentary daze and followed Athos to his dragon. He briefly noticed Porthos was riding Vrita bareback, but he didn't have time to ask why before they were launching into the air and hastening back to the palace. D'Artagnan's heart was in his throat, worrying about what the Cardinal might try to pull to stop them or prevent them from seeing the King.

But when they arrived, they weren't denied an audience and were escorted to the solarium where the King and Queen were recuperating with some afternoon tea after their ordeal.

The Queen immediately stood upon their entrance. "Have you news?" she asked earnestly.

"Yes, Your Majesty," Athos replied. "It appears the Cardinal was behind the attempt on your life."

She blinked in incomprehension. "What?"

"That's preposterous," Louis exclaimed, surging to his feet.

"Your Majesty, we have proof he paid the assassins," d'Artagnan said, stepping forward and holding out the page from the ledger.

Anne took it from him first, a hand going to her throat as she looked it over. Louis snatched it away from her to see for himself. He stared for a long moment before looking up.

"There must be some mistake," he said, sounding shaken. "The Cardinal would never betray me…"

"There's more," d'Artagnan continued. "He's been collecting a secret army of dragons, in an underground cavern beneath the palace."

Louis scoffed. "That's impossible."

"We can show you."

The doors banged open, making the royals jump, and Richelieu strode in. The musketeers each reached for their weapons instinctively, though they had enough presence of mind not to draw yet.

"Cardinal," Louis said, trying for composure. "I've heard the most disturbing news."

"What is that, Sire?"

Louis held the piece of paper up for him to see. "What do you have to say to this?"

Richelieu gave a blasé shrug. "It's a forgery."

"I saw you in the cavern with the captain of your Red Guard," d'Artagnan spat. "It's no forgery."

The Cardinal scoffed derisively. "I don't know what this man is talking about. Your Majesty, if the Musketeers are trying to divert taking responsibility for their failure today—"

"The King and Queen are alive and safe," Aramis interrupted staunchly. "The failure belongs to those who tried to murder them."

Richelieu's eye twitched, but otherwise he was maintaining his confident posture.

D'Artagnan turned back to the King. "Your Majesty, please allow me to take you to the dragon lair. Then you'll see the truth for yourself."

Louis cast a hesitant look at the Cardinal, and then nodded seriously. "Very well."

D'Artagnan shot a glare at Richelieu. Finally, the despicable man had lost and would face justice for his crimes.

The Cardinal's expression was tight but he didn't look like a man backed into a corner. He tilted his head over his shoulder and shouted, "Guards!"

Over a dozen red guards swarmed into the room, swords drawn, and surrounded the royals and the musketeers. D'Artagnan's hand jerked around the hilt of his own sword, but there was no time to unsheathe it.

"What is the meaning of this?" Louis demanded.

The Cardinal gazed down at the King with open contempt. "Unfortunately, Your Majesty, your reign has come to an end."

Louis sputtered indignantly. "How dare you…"

"You are a petulant child," Richelieu snapped. "It is time France had a real leader." His lip curled upward and he spread his arms. "Me."

"You are not the King and the people will never accept your rule," Athos said coldly.

Richelieu narrowed his eyes. "They will." He raised his voice in dramatic fashion. "After their beloved King and Queen are murdered by their own Musketeer Guard, the people will be bereaved. They will need someone to turn to, such as their devout spiritual leader and First Minister."

"You can't do this," Anne said.

Richelieu's gaze sharpened with pure hatred toward the Queen. "You left me no choice. Kill them."

The red guards moved forward and the musketeers all leaped back, placing themselves in front of the King and Queen and giving themselves enough space to draw their swords. The screech of colliding steel rang throughout the room. D'Artagnan thrust and parried with singleminded ferocity, cutting down every red guard who dared to come at him.

But they were outnumbered and being driven backward.

With a roar, Porthos picked up the table with the teacups and tossed it at several guards, toppling them. He then grabbed a chair and threw it through the window behind them, shattering the glass into hundreds of pieces.

"Move!" Athos shouted over his shoulder as the musketeers continued to give ground, pushing the King and Queen further back.

They spilled out onto the veranda and Athos bellowed for his dragon.

There was a distant shriek…far too distant to be Savron.

"Dear God," Anne gasped.

D'Artagnan ran his sword through the last opponent in his immediate vicinity and chanced a look up. His jaw went slack in shock and horror at the army of red dragons rising into the sky…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NEXT TIME
> 
> The Musketeers face their greatest challenge yet—defeating the Cardinal and restoring Louis to the throne of France.


End file.
